The Niceties Of It
by EvilVampireDucky
Summary: A series of vignettes to my story Tabby Cat, told in non-chronological order. Mistletoe: Bard is hanging mistletoe. Unfortunately. Words: 824 Updated: February 15th
1. The Niceties of It

**This is a snapshot of a conversation between Ciel and Tabby, and views upon humanity, more or less.**** It takes place during chapter 13 of Tabby Cat, which is recommended you read to understand the relationship between Tabby(my oc) and Ciel. To further specify when this takes place, it is between the time they arrive home, after dealing with the Azzurro Vanel situation, and before Tabby's nightmare. **

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Ciel, that night, could be found in his study, bandages sporadically covering his small body. The game with Azzurro Vanel had not been particularly difficult, nor enjoyable. He might have hoped for a small semblance of a challenge, but his request was, once more, not granted.

He was however, curious about the black and turquoise haired girl who had taken a kick to the stomach, which, if had landed on its intended target, might have severely injured him.

She had no reason to that he could fathom; certainly, he allowed her in his home, and she had told him that she was the reincarnation of a little sister he had no memory of. But why did she feel it necessary to protect him?

He had very little worth protecting.

Thinking of the girl had almost summoned her, it seemed, for without knocking, the door swung open, her hair bouncing as she bounded in clad in her night gown. "Ciel," she chirped, plopping undignified in the seat before him. A wince pulled from her throat, and she immediately arched her side away from the chair, muttering to herself. "Gotta get used to that bruise..."

He made note that she was indeed injured from that kick she had taken for him. "Tabby," Her gaze turned from glaring at the chair's armrest, to Ciel's own mismatched blue eyes. His eye patch had been forsaken due to a cut under his brow, leaving the iridescent sigil carved into his eye free for all the world to see.

"Why did you protect me?"

If anything, it looked as if she expected any topic but that to be brought up.

"Why? That's what people do." She had said it so matter-of-factly, that he realized she truly believed this.

He corrected her instantly. "No. People cheat; steal; lie. They destroy those unfortunate enough to be below them, and make attempts to woo those above them so they themselves are not destroyed. They protect no one but themselves, and step on those who provide avenues for protecting themselves."

Her gaze, which he had expected defiance, as tended to be her usual reaction, was full of pity, something he never wished to be seen directed towards him.

"You truly believe that." She whispered, quoting his earlier thoughts about her. "Perhaps, in the world you've seen. But you've never really sought to see the good in the world- after all, the last time you saw it was when you were nine." He could feel his jaw tighten. "Afterwards, when you became cynical enough to actually take note of the evil, you had casted away the belief of the good."

He sent the girl a hard glare, angered at her analysis of him.

"It is difficult to believe in the good, when it was a demon that saved you."

If possible, the pity in her eyes worsened. "Did Sebastian save you?" were her light words, almost inaudible, as if she were talking to herself. "At what cost? You traded one hell for another."

The truth of this was well known to him; but he hadn't expected her to know it, let alone throw it back in his face.

"This hell is more tolerable."

With a nod, she conceded his point. "I suppose, in comparison, it is. But then, you gave up your chance to be human."

A small sneer curled on his lips. "I have no wish to be human. I told you- people cheat, steal, and lie. Destruction follows in their footsteps, as well as their path ahead. There is no such thing as the _good_ you attempt to convince me to see."

"Then what am I?"

The softness of the tone halted him, and he peered at the girl who had spoken quietly, despite the hard edge in her eyes.

"I suppose..." He considered both her and his next words carefully. "...that if it were necessary to put a face to a name, you would be good."

She nodded seriously, her expression flat while she crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm glad you can see it. Now, I'm going to tell you a couple secrets: first rule of life, everybody lies." He blinked. "Even the good. I lie. Finny lies. The little girl selling oranges lies. Does that make them any less good? Any less pure of heart?" She cut him off before he could answer. "_No_, it doesn't. And that question was rhetorical. Second: I've cheated before. All through Spanish class, I cheated off homework and tests. I've cheated out my mother, by pretending to be sick so I didn't have to go to school. I'm still _good_ though, no? After all, it was _you_ who said so. And thirdly: I've stolen. I stole my best friend's favorite shirt because it was my favorite shirt. Granted, I was six at the time. I stole twenty dollars from my father because I wanted to go out with my friends, and he wouldn't give me any money." Her voice, which had been of normal volume, dipped.

"I've stolen a piece of my family's love, by coming here. Some of their life. I've stolen a bit of their happiness. Does that make me less good?"

Ciel didn't answer her for a few moments, his gaze hooded from hers. "That is beyond your control. From my understanding, you did not intend to travel through time by nearly drowning in the Thames."

"No, I didn't." She conceded, and his eyes jerked up to look back at her. "But I chose to walk along with you, who's every foot step brings not only destruction, but despair. I chose to walk along with you, knowing that you aren't good, and that by the end of it, nor will I be.

"That, Ciel, is why I protected you." She must have seen something flicker in his eyes, because she elaborated. "I chose to follow you. I chose you, and the path you lead, over the ignorance of what is good. By doing so, I decided that we will be, eventually, one in the same. And a person, no matter their virtues and vices, will protect someone that reminds them of themselves."

Seeing her little speech done, she stood up, the slight contortions of her face telling Ciel she was withholding a wince. Despite seeing this, he made no comment, analyzing her, and her words. Indeed, he would have hidden his pain, as she tried to. She wasn't like him yet, but she was on that path. Perhaps not walking beside him, hand in hand, but half a step behind, the good he supposedly saw in her tainting with each step she took.

"I suppose, over all," Tabby said, opening the door. "That's the niceties of it."

Once she left, likely to head to bed, Ciel allowed himself to ponder her words, as well as his own. He had said, if one must give a face to a name, that she could be described as good. But she herself had spoken truer words.

The first rule of life: everybody lies.

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**So, sorry I haven't updated in almost two months; I've been a bit depressed, and reading lots of fanfiction in an effort to avoid being social. To be honest, my 1st person writing style has degraded drastically, and I've been rather upset by it not being up to my personal standards. (oh, and I've been procrastinating because I dont want to write the Abbey Arc)**

**In all fairness though, I think my 3rd person is at its current best. Which is why I did a 3rd person pov. **

**I really enjoy Tabby and Ciel's relationship, even before its really developed. I expect to do more of these sidefics, because they seem great for writers block, and give me reasons to explore different aspects of the characters.**

**Anyways, sorry I haven't updated TC yet, there's some feels because (gasp!) Tabby has a problem with Ciel's actions. And Ciel, despite his best efforts to appear older, is still a 13 year old boy with an ego the size of Russia.**


	2. The Most Peculiar Quirk

**This takes place after chapter 24 of Tabby Cat. It however, is not necessary to have read previously, as this is a focus on Lizzie, and to an extent, Ciel.**

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The blonde allowed tears to fall freely, as she cried for her dearly departed Aunt. She had been moved by her fiancé's actions, a moment where he had truly proven how much the woman was worth to him.

But, even now, days after the funeral, she allowed herself to ponder sadly, her thoughts headed down a dreary road.

Ciel had offered no cause of death, for their dear Aunt An. Certainly, she had been aware that her chest had been mutilated. But Ciel had refrained from answering the question she had always asked, giving rise to her suspicions.

The green eyed girl knew of her fiancé's position within the seedier parts of society. Her father wasn't part of the Underworld, no, but her mother had been aware of it. And her mother was not one to molly-coddle. She told her the stark naked truth, and didn't allow anything but.

So, she was aware she was marrying the Queen's Guard Dog. She was aware of his actions, and often times her thoughts would wander on that topic.

More often than not, a singular question arose.

How many skeletons were in his closet?

It was a question that had come up the first time she had suspected his involvement in the death of one of the Barons, nearly two years ago. A highly respected member of society was not killed without reason. It had later been announced that the Baron had a child slave-trade going, and the killer had been doing society a favor over all.

That was when she determined she needed a way to determine if Ciel, as the Queen's guard dog, had taken a part in the death of those within the obituary.

So far, it had worked rather well.

She had read the papers, last month. A man by the name of Azzurro Vanel -who she knew to have been an Aristocrat of Evil- had died, after his manor had been attacked. There had been a small mention, that there was evidence of the man dealing drugs, and was well aware of the Queen's position on that matter.

As well as the fact she could say with near certainty Ciel had been responsible for his death; for he had not answered her question.

Whenever the girl considered a recent death she had read in the paper, she would ponder casually to the boy aloud, "I wonder why they died." and if their deaths were more heinous, she substituted _died_ for _killed._

Often times, the boy responded with the answer he had learnt in the paper, or things he had gleaned about the individual overall and gave his own thoughts on the matter. And if he had no thoughts, he would usually snark a reply of _"How am I supposed to know?"_ or _"It is of no concern of mine."_

No, it wasn't foolproof; by no means was her method exact. But it occurred with far more frequency than she would have liked.

He had appeared to have seen her questions as nothing more than a quirk she had, if not a rather peculiar one. That was rather the way she wanted it. Because, she had discovered over time, that she had developed a method in which she herself could glean information from.

For you see, if Ciel had a part in one's death, he would not give a reason; he would not voice his thoughts on the matter. Surely, she had determined, his thoughts were much bloodier than a casual glance at the obituary.

That was how Elizabeth -never was she Lizzie in mourning- found herself staring sadly out her window, to the church she was aware her Aunt was buried.

"Elizabeth," The younger blonde lifted her head, to acknowledge the strength woman who was her mother. "What are you doing, staring out the window like so? One would think you were pondering the meaning of life."

Slowly, she blinked, before looking out the window once more. "I am, I suppose." She could almost see the expression her mother shot her. "You see, over time, I have established a way of asking Ciel —without his notice— if a person's death was due to Underworld involvement. Specifically, his."

There was a beat of silence. "And what is this way?"

"I ponder to him why that person died." Elizabeth turned to look at her mother, who sat on the window sill next to her. "If he summarizes what he knows, he had no part. If he does not answer, I can garner he played a part in their death, if not the direct cause."

Her mother nodded, and the young woman took this as an acceptable way to determine such a thing, returning her gaze to the church. "You have not yet explained why you are staring out the window so sullenly."

There was no hesitation when the blonde answered; only an echo of pain within her voice, as if resigned to the answer she had already determined.

"I asked about Aunt An." Her voice was hollow, and she mentally made a tally mark within her mind before she continued;

"And Ciel did not answer."

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**Truly, Lizzie is one of my favorite characters. She's not shallow, and she's smarter than most people make her out to be. She's a sword prodigy, and wants to protect Ciel by allowing him to protect her, though will break face if it comes to that.**

**She's a three dimensional character whom I absolutely adore.**

**Anyways, no Tabby, just an insight to Lizzie's head.**

**No update to Tabby Cat yet, sorry. But, if anyone has any particular scene they'd like to see (not necessarily Tabby-centric), just something I might have mentioned in passing in Tabby Cat, or glassed over. I would like some feelsy, heart wrenching painful prompts tho, because those are fun. Truly. I'm a masochist. **

**But yeah, shoot me a prompt. It might help towards getting over my writers block.**


	3. An Unremarkable Grave

**Greetings people! Sorry again for my ****disappearance; my personal problems got worse, and it all sort of felt like it collapsed in on itself.  
But yes. Hello. Here's another vignette, featuring Ciel. Its not particularly interesting, nor long, but oh well. Tabby Cat has also been updated/is being updated at this time.**

**This takes place after Madam Red's death, but before her funeral in chapter 24 of Tabby Cat.**

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His footsteps were slow and assured, each step carefully measured with intimidation. This was, after all, the way any individual of society was supposed to walk; no matter your surroundings, no matter the going-ons of one's life, no matter any thoughts one might have; you were to walk with purposeful strides. You were to walk with confidence; with pride.

Therefore, no one would be any the wiser to the young Earl Phantomhive's trepidation as his feet carried him to his destination.

Ciel had only been within the Phantomhive Cemetery once— the day he had made the contract with the demon. Not out of fear, respect, or anything of the sort; he hadn't entered the cemetery merely because he had never found any need.

That brought the boy's thoughts to his venture today.

He had been pondering over the news of an Evangeline Phantomhive for a little over two months; which meant, overall, he gave it a passing thought on occasion. Madam Red's death had had him considering the recently deceased woman's burial placement, and had nearly chosen to place her in the Phantomhive plot. Eventually however, he decided the ancestral Phantomhive land was solely meant for those who carried the Phantomhive name.

And despite how much Aunt An might have wished it, out of her two names, Phantomhive was not one of them.

The small thought had occurred to him —in passing, as he signed the agreement for Madam Red's burial plot— that Evangeline Phantomhive must have been buried within its premises, for she bore the Phantomhive name, if only for the few months she was alive.

There was a pregnant pause filling his thoughts, as he had never considered it before. That a sibling who he had no recollection of was buried a hundred yards away from his current position.

Curiosity eventually won out within the boy, which was how he found himself crossing the threshold of the cemetery archway.

Four white crosses marked his destination. He knew two to be his parents, where their charred corpses were likely nothing more than skeletal remains. A third he recognized as his own grave— he had not ordered its removal, due to reasoning that the Ciel Phantomhive he once was died in that one month absence. He had died, submerged in Hell, only to be reborn into a new Hell.

Truly, he mused, symbolism Edgar Allen Poe would be proud of.

The fourth cross, sitting silently and inconspicuously, had not been noticed the first time he had been in the cemetery gates. It was singularly unremarkable; though the same could have been said against the other three crosses, had he not been aware of their meaning. He knew what the names Vincent and Rachel Phantomhive meant; he knew the lives they had led, he knew the pain they had felt. He understood their worth, for it was their graves that made his ears ring with silence. But a grave, marked with an unknown name, was extraordinarily commonplace. Their name did not stir feelings of grief; there was no remembrance of the life they had led, no assumptions to the pain they felt. There was no experience, no memory to attach to the name.

A grave meant little to one when the name meant little.

The soft crunching of grass came to a halt when Ciel did, staring at the name with little interest. As suspected, the name _Evangeline Phantomhive_ was carved into the marble embedded in the ground, accompanied by smaller dates of _October 28, 1877 — January 21, 1878_.

Absently, he noted Tabby had arrived to this time on January 21, 1888, and wondered for a moment if there was a reason, before dismissing it. If there was a purpose for her date of arrival, it meant little now. He spared little time for the past, and already, he was sparing more than he intended, peering down at a grave that would have encased a small infant once. He doubted even the child's bones were left by that time.

His singular azure eye swept over the other three slabs of marble, a small pang of remorse budding in his heart. He allowed himself to feel the small emotion; the mere sorrow of missing what once was, and perhaps, might have been, had Evangeline Phantomhive lived past infancy.

The moment lasted less than a minute, and once more with purposeful, assured steps, walked back towards his manor home. The calm, measured strides betrayed none of his thoughts; perhaps one expected his shoulders to shake with grief. Or for slow, unsteady steps that echoed painful memories. One might have thought he was hiding his sorrow, behind the mask that made him an Earl, the only sign, a deep saddened emotion within his lone visible eye.

But there was none of this; his thoughts were calm and placid, merely musing over something that had peaked his interest on Evangeline's grave.

His sister had been born October 28th; the current date was October 13th.

Perhaps the green haired —_turquoise!_ the small voice that sounded suspiciously like Tabby corrected in his head— girl taking residence in his home had a birthday coming up.

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**Shoot me a prompt or something, you guys~ I have a few ideas from a couple people, but I'd like more to build from. Love you all, and thank you so much for the support :wuzzle:**


	4. Cherub

**Sorry about the radio silence guys; literally there's been nothing but stress all of November, December, and most of January. Like, mental breakdown type stress. A lot of irl personal shit's been happening that I simply cant deal with well, and it pretty much killed all will to draw and write.**

**But I'm getting back in the grove of things, so hot dog.**

**Setting is explained in the first sentence; the present setting however, would be during the Curry Arc.**

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Ciel was almost two when his mother showed him the small, chubby person in her arms.

His eyes, large and filled with wonder, stared at the little being.

"Baby."

The master and mistress of the house laughed at their son's reaction to their newest member, his father lifting Ciel into his arms and onto his hip. "This, Ciel, is your baby sister." Ciel's azure eyes stayed focused on the bundle in a pale blue cloth. Baby.

"Baby is a little people."

Vincent chuckled at his son's vocabulary. "A baby is a little _person_. This baby is a girl. She's very special, you know."

Ciel finally tore his eyes away from the baby. Special? Like when he doesn't cry he gets a special candy?

"She's your little sister." Vincent explained at his child's confused expression. "That means you have to protect her. Like a knight."

The small boy's face lit up at the idea, and wiggled his way down out of his father's arms.

"Baby is little princess people!"

Vincent gave a resigned chuckle, taking his new daughter from his wife's arms.

TCTCTC

"Ciel," Rachel started gently, a smile twitching onto her face. "You don't have watch her _all_ the time."

The boy looked up at his name, peering silently up into his mother's face. "Monsters will get baby princess."

Making sure to tuck Evangeline under her covers, Rachel then knelt down to be level with her son. "That's why Mommy and Daddy are here. We protect her when you need to sleep."

She had never seen such a defiant expression on her son before. "No sleep."

"Ciel, if you don't sleep, you won't be able to watch over her tomorrow." She could see it; he was about to give in. "If you do, you can have an extra banana with breakfast."

There it was; he agreed in a heartbeat, reaching a hand through the crib bars to pat his sister's arm —Rachel was too slow to stop him, but to her relief, Evangeline didn't wake up— before rushing out of the room for bed.

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The baby princess was boring. She didn't know how to play with his toys. She just threw them around. Or tried to eat them, sometimes. Then she'd cry when he took the toys away because he didn't want icky baby juice on his toys.

At that point, one of the servants would usually come pick her up and take her to his parents, or Mommy and Daddy would come get her themselves.

Ciel had also noticed Mommy and Daddy paid a lot of attention to the baby princess. He didn't get that much attention when _he_ cried.

But baby princess was special— and he was supposed to protector her like a knight. But what did a knight do?

He needed Daddy to read the book again.

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Baby princess looked like an angel, he decided. Like one of those baby angels in the paintings. Mommy called them chair-ups.

Maybe baby princess was a chair-up.

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Daddy said he wasn't allowed to call baby princess baby princess anymore. He said he was supposed to call her E-V. Like the letters in the alphabet. Like him! His name was letters too: C-L.

But Daddy said it wasn't her real name; her real name was too big for a little knight to say. When he became a big Knight, he could say it.

So, sighing ruefully, to the amusement of his father, the small boy resigned himself to calling the baby princess E-V.

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Ciel's second birthday was cold. He didn't like it. The cold made him sick, and made his teeth bump together.

But he got a chess set for his birthday! He didn't know how to play yet though. He just watched from Daddy's lap when he played the grumpy sandwich man. But! Daddy said he would teach him; that it would help make him a big knight faster. Make him smarter to protect baby princess E-V better.

He smiled, dumping the box out on his floor. Until Daddy could play, the pieces would be good to play fight.

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Mommy was sad. So was Daddy. But Mommy was crying like baby princess E-V does. Really loud. His ears hurt from Mommy's crying, and Daddy wouldn't teach him anymore chess right now. But that was alright, because Daddy was protecting Mommy like he protected E-V.

Where was baby princess? If Mommy and Daddy didn't have her, maybe the servants did...

TCTCTC

The servants were sad too, and the maid cried when he asked where baby princess E-V was.

The next morning, Daddy got him up and brought him to his and Mommy's room. He said they needed to talk. But how did they talk when Mommy was still crying.

"Ciel," He started eventually, holding the boy on his lap. Ciel stared up, blinking at his name. "Eevie isn't here anymore."

Ciel blinked again. "Oh." There was a beat of silence —Mommy wasn't crying really loudly, though she did pick a pillow up and cry into it— before he continued. "Where?"

He had never seen Daddy cry; but there Daddy was, his chest shaking, tears on his face like Mommy's. "Heaven, baby. Eevie's an angel now."

There was another blink from the child. "Baby princess Eevie is an angel?" Daddy suddenly picked him up, holding him tightly against his chest, crying like Mommy was holding her pillow.

"Then- then-" Ciel frowned. "Baby princess is a baby chair-up." How did he protect baby princess E-V then if she was a chair-up? Chair-ups were angels, and he couldn't see angels. "I can't see E-V anymore?"

Mommy and Daddy cried harder, and Ciel began to cry.

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"My lord,"

Ciel lifted his head from his desk, the sounds of London giving him a headache; this was why he lived in his country manor and avoided the townhouse like the plague. "Yes, Sebastian?"

The demon appeared amused, for some godforsaken reason.

"I believe I happened upon some of your child drawings."

That _was_ a godforsaken reason, Ciel groaned silently in his head, before attempting to return to his work. "So what? Do what you wish with them." Ciel never knew what Sebastian did with an obscure order like that; he simply assumed the demon burned them or discarded them in some way.

Therefore, he was momentarily surprised when the folder was sat in front of him.

"I wish for you to look at them."

Ciel rolled his eyes at the damnable man, but set his pen down; despite the attempt to be professional and continue with his work, he _was_ still only thirteen. He wasn't about to turn down a reprieve from work a _second_ time. Opening the folder, he winced at the horrid, misshapen lumps that were —if he assumed correct— supposed to be humans. One vaguely resembled a knight; there was a triangular cape, as well as a sword. The other was only about half the size of the knight, and wore a blue princess dress; at least, he assumed it was a princess, because she was wearing a crown.

Many followed this trend; though sometimes the knight and princess had bigger people in the picture too, who had the vague coloring of his parents.

The last picture was different however. The knight —him, he was certain; he vaguely recalled calling himself a knight when he was younger— and his parents were all obviously crying at the bottom of the picture, while the princess had wings and was flying above the clouds. Frowning, he flipped the childish drawing over, catching sight of his father's scrawl, quickly scanning over the words.

Baby Princess Eevie; he could dimly remember something about it. It made him sad. It made him think of the first and last time he ever saw his father cry.

Ciel flipped the paper over once more to blink at the drawing. "I think these are my drawings of Evangeline and I."

"Oh?" Sebastian sounded, an eyebrow raised as Ciel handed back the folder, keeping the last drawing out. "Why do you assume that?"

The boy turned a lovely shade of carmine. "I have a faint recollection of naming someone 'Baby Princess Eevie'. It's not difficult to make the assumption that Eevie was a shortened name for Evangeline."

Sebastian gave a small cough —Ciel was _quite aware_ the blasted demon was laughing— and bowed. "What shall you have me do with these?"

Ciel simply waved it off. "My order still stands. Discard them, show them to Tabby, whatnot. It's not of any importance anyway."

With his customary _"Yes, my Lord," _Sebastian took leave of his office, leaving the boy to sit in peace and gaze at the drawing for a touch longer.

"It's not of importance."

Then abruptly, he tossed it in the fire, his artwork and father's familiar scrawl turning to ash.

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_Knight Ciel was the best knight Baby Princess Eevie could ever have._

_And now, Baby Princess Eevie protects Knight Ciel._

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**If anyone was curious, I _did_ cry writing the part about Vincent crying. Though I enjoyed writing from toddler Ciel's perspective. Though I think I made him a touch too advanced; but whatever.**

**To anyone who didn't catch it; E-V is how Ciel thinks of saying "Eevie" (like Eevee the pokemon). Just like Ciel thinks of his name as "C-L". And chair-ups is how he pronounces cherubs. And the grumpy sandwich man is Diedrich.**

**Ciel was a cutie who liked Knights and bananas okay.**

**Also I love Vincent. So much. To those of you who haven't read the extra chapter from the book of circus dvds, its chapter 99.5 of kuroshitsuji dot org. My favorite pages were 14, 15, and 16 (because of Vincent)**

**But yeah. Idk when I'll update the main story; there's only about 1000 or so words written out of the next chapter, though I have a vague idea of how I want it to go.**

**Oh, and when we get to the titanic arc, you're going to hate me. I'm going to hate me. I'm changing my original plot and I'm already crying at what I have to write.**


	5. Forget

**Again, sorry about the lack of update for the main story. But this suddenly hit me, so. Yeah.**

**This starts when our dream team of Ciel, Sebastian and Tabby go to the circus, and follows on through in a drabble like format. -drabblesinsideadrabbleinception- **

**Words: 1,648**

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Being a circus troupe member wasn't what she had expected in life. By no means; she expected to grow up in the workhouse, until she was too old, and then either become a maid or find a husband.

But she _was_ a circus troupe member; a member of a popular traveling circus. She ate well, and got nice things occasionally, even though she wasn't an 'official' first tier member. But that wasn't her fault; she needed a partner for her routine, and despite the trainee's she'd had in the past, none of them had taken her seriously.

Her first trainee had flat out laughed when she was told her teacher was an eleven year old girl.

The others hadn't been much better.

But her thirteenth birthday was coming up. Maybe someone interested in her aerial silk routine would appear, and not be off put by her age. Even if they were only a couple years older; it wouldn't make as big a difference.

And then they appeared.

She had been watching the show, as always to make sure things ran smoothly. To make sure the other second tier members were doing their jobs right, and to make sure none of the guests got hurt or tried to steal from them. Things that _needed_ to be done, but was always overlooked by everyone else.

It was saddening, she thought to herself, watching as the couple approached Joker for Beast's closing segment, that only the twelve year old girl thinks about these things.

Watching the show, her mouth had opened when the gentlemen ignored both Joker and Beast, instead immediately stalking up to Betty...to pet her. Did this man have any sense of self-preservation?! Tigers weren't common in zoos —due to the neglect the animal caretakers showed, most died in captivity; they had actually stolen Betty after seeing the caretaker abuse the poor cat— but _most_ people had the common sense to not put their own face in a giant cat's personal spac—

And then Betty encased the man's entire face in her mouth.

Yells and screams rang throughout the tent —hers included. If Betty killed him—! Father would be so ashamed! If he didn't punish all of them, Joker and Beast would be punished at the very least, and Father's punishments were never very pleasant.

It was with a relieved sigh that the man had simply taken his face out of Betty's mouth, and her shoulders sagged.

"Man! That really scared me, tha' did."

Lifting her head, she smiled at the older boy. "Yeah, I was terrified." She agreed. "Are you doing the encore tonight, Dagger?"

He shook his head. "Nah. Jumbo's supposed to do the encor— again?!"

Jerking her head, Tiger paled at quickly at the sight of Betty biting the man _again_, as Dagger had rightly said, but this time from the back of the head.

She was dumbfounded when the man simply removed his head and petted the giant cat as if it were a kitten.

"That man," Tiger finally said, disbelief lacing her voice. "Needs to be put in an asylum."

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"Joker!"

The ginger perked his head up, looking for the source of his name, and spotted the girl with a skin condition hurrying towards him.

"Nn? What's wrong, Tiger?" He asked, blinking at the irritation on her face. Had he done something?

"Where's the fellow who got bit by Betty?!"

How was he to know that. "Going home, I'd guess? Maybe playing at the booths?"

Tiger stared, flabbergasted at his stupidity. "Stupid! He was _bitten by Betty! _You have to make sure he's alright, or Father'll flay you alive!"

The ringmaster paled drastically at that realization, and hurried out of the tent.

TCTCTC

She was eating dinner later that night, when Joker and Dagger entered the dinning tent. "Hey Joker, did you find that man?"

Joker's face, catching sight of her, lit up. "Yeah, and we scouted him!"

That was not what she was expecting. "What?"

Dagger seemed to burst out of his seat. "That perverted feller did this really neat trick with his wifey and it was really cool and I nearly had my manhood taken away! It was horrible and then Joker _scouted_ them! Can ya believe this old man?!"

Tiger quickly made a decision.

"I don't wanna know."

TCTCTC

She had seen the gentleman and lady from the night before the next day, along with another unfamiliar boy. Since Joker had said he'd scouted the man yesterday, she assumed the girl and boy were there for an entrance test, and shrugged. She had to things to do today —like going into London for more make up— so she left them to their test in the hands of Joker.

She wasn't surprised when she got back and discovered both made it. Even if they didn't pass the test, Joker would've let them in; the fact that they tried; that they _wanted_ to join was the test. Whatever little tests Joker put trainees through was just making sure they'd go through with it.

"Hi there," She greeted the girl —only a few years older than herself— and gave a small wave. "I'm Tiger."

Tiger could admit that the way the girl was staring at her was unnerving. It wasn't like the stares she normally got; they stared in horror, disgust, or intrigue at the pattern of her skin. But, this girl...

This girl looked at her like she was everything important in the world. Like she was the sun she saw for the first time.

It was awkward, it the striped girl's opinion.

"Oh, right, I'm Tabby."

Tiger blinked. "Like the cat?"

She cracked her own grin. "I'm not nearly as graceful."

Well, even with the awkward staring, Tiger could appreciate her humor.

"Too bad; yer Tabby Cat now."

The smile on the girl's face was undoubtedly the most painful smile she ever saw.

"My best friend used to say that too. She looked a lot like you, actually."

Oh. Maybe that explained the awkward staring. The past tense didn't go over Tiger's head either, and she responded with a sympathetic smile.

TCTCTC

The fact that the girl wanted to do aerial silk acrobatics, had talent for it, _and_ didn't look down on her for being younger was everything Tiger wanted in a protégé.

So Tiger was understandably upset when it was discovered all four of their newest members had disappeared a day later.

"All three knew Suit." Peter grumbled. "We should've seen it then; all of em musta been a pig."

Frowning, Tiger tightened her fist, feeling her nails dig into her palm. "They were good actors; they made it seem like they hated each other."

"And we fell for it." Wendy finished, and she could feel her nails break the skin.

"We were played. We danced to their tune like we knew all the steps."

Gritting her teeth, Tiger came to one conclusion.

Everything that girl said, every look that girl gave, was a lie. And if she destroyed her family...

She would destroy her.

TCTCTC

Going on a mission the morning of her birthday wasn't what she'd call a birthday gift, but Tiger wouldn't complain. This was just something that had to get done as soon as possible, so no dogs of the yards would get them. This was the most important target on the list, according to father. It may even be the last, he had said.

Then they wouldn't have to do this anymore.

She didn't like doing it; abducting children, and killing anyone they met. She didn't _want_ to do it. But it was better than being punished.

And so, she and the rest of the first tier members left for Phantomhive manor.

TCTCTC

She watched in horror from her spot on the chandelier, taking in the words Kitten had said. _Kitten_ wanted to kill Big Sis, personally; and she let those other men try and kill Dagger. How could this— this _monster_ make that expression when she first met her?

This demon she was looking at had a smirk twisted on her face as the boy threw pieces of art at her family members. She was _enjoying_ this, watching them scurry like mice.

She wasn't even thinking when she flung herself off the chandelier, her aerial silks leaving her hanging in the air. She wasn't thinking when she wrapped silk around the girl's neck. She didn't even know what she was saying to the girl, but she could feel her mouth moving.

The girl, Kitten, Tabby, whatever her name was— her expression suddenly changed; it wasn't warped with twisted malice. There was _pain _when she gazed at Tiger; a distraught, heart wrenching agony. But she couldn't find it in her to care.

Within a heartbeat, that pain in Kitten's face wasn't there anymore. There was determination, a fire in her eyes; figuratively, and literally, as they lit pink in desperation.

And suddenly, thought didn't exist anymore.

TCTCTC

She was crying. She couldn't stop. The pain she had felt in her temples had been tremendous, and she could still feel hands on her brain, despite how limited her consciousness was at that point.

She was crying for herself. For Dagger. For Beast. For Peter and Wendy and Jumbo. For Joker and Doll. She was crying and she couldn't stop. She didn't want to stop. If she did, she would forget. She didn't want to forget; she wanted to remember, to remember that girl, her expression; to remember her sense of betrayal.

To remember to hate her.

"Hey there, my precious tiger."

The voice was loud and clear, and abruptly, her crying stopped. She couldn't see anything but vague, blurry shapes, the most prominent being the skin toned blob with what looked like dark hair.

Why was she crying, again?

"My feisty little tiger, Dimitra."

Making a gurgle sound, she decided it was not worth remembering.

* * *

**See ya later ya'll. Idk if you'll be seeing me here or in the main story. Or tumblr. Or dA.**

**My tablet is broken hold me.**


	6. Mistletoe

**Yo, I think I'm almost done with the next chapter of Tabby Cat, but have this little christmas thingy. I guess its directly before the Circus arc, and a couple days after the curry arc**

* * *

Sebastian had had a particularly trying day today. Not that what he did was difficult; cleaning the house so it was in impeccable shape; polishing the silverware until it's surface was as reflective as a mirror; preparing the food that would be served on the morrow, an elaborate twelve course dinner.

No, it was the other three servants who had tried his patience.

Christmas within the Phantomhive household was a rather subdued affair; it was simply a time for a family to gather around and catch up over dinner, while a gift or two was exchanged, though they never put a tree up, much to Lady Elizabeth's reoccurring disappointment.

Neither Sebastian nor his young lord cared to decorate the manor in celebration of the holiday. However, the other servants seemed to take it upon themselves; the scent of pine had slowly increased over the course of the day, and despite how overwhelmed his own nose felt, Constance seemed to revel in it.

He quickly discovered she was helping with the ludicrous decorations when she had passed by, the scent of fresh pine wafting behind her.

At the moment however, he was glaring unabashed at a giggling cook that was currently ignorant of his presence.

"Bardroy." The blond gave a yelp, jerking and falling off his ladder with a crash. "What are you doing?"

Bard's blue eyes flitted across the room, calculating any escape routes —not that they would help should Sebastian decide to gut the human— before answering. "Hangin' some mistletoe."

Perhaps he should rephrase his question, because his eyes were fully functional. "_Why_ then, are you hanging mistletoe."

"Eh?" The man sprawled on the floor blinked. "Why, 'cause of you and Miss Tabby. Yer supposed ta kiss under mistletoe, ya know."

Demons weren't supposed to get headaches; he had never gotten one until he'd had to work with these servants. "Bardroy, a sprig of mistletoe has no remarkable powers that would trap Miss Constance and I under it until we kissed; if you believed so, you will be horribly disappointed."

"Well doesn't Miss Tabby seem like _exactly_ the type that would?"

_Unfortunately. _Sebastian didn't even have to think about that to know the answer.

"You are forgetting, Bardroy, that I am not." He replied, and considered the repercussions of leaving Bard's body at the bottom of the lake behind the manor.

The cook simply grinned, and Sebastian had to remind himself the idiot _did_ actually serve a purpose in the household. "It'd give you a reason to kiss her."

"In front of not only the young master, but the Marchioness of Midford and her family." Bard finally grimaced at that fact. "Even the most idioti—" He caught himself, receiving a small glare from the shorter man. "—obtuse individuals are aware of the contempt Lady Midford holds for me."

"Yeah, doesn't she say you have a lecherous face?" He teased, Sebastian's eyebrow twitching. "Considering your, uh, _actions_ with Miss Tabby, ain't that true now?"

Truly, the cook would look good cement shoes. "She said as much long before Miss Constance arrived to our time period. It is simply her opinion on my facial features, and my _actions_ do not reflect that."

Bard frowned, gazing at the wall intently, before returning to his mistletoe.

"It's weird, ain't it, how Miss Tabby is from the future." Sebastian wondered if the change of topic was to distract him from the mistletoe he was _continuing_ to hang. "It's so unbelievable my brain says it's not true, but then, the way Tabby acts _is_ believable. It's so continuous, it'd be impossible to make up."

As Bard got off his ladder and dragged it along to the next doorway overhang, Sebastian reached up and plucked the offending sprig of greenery off the pine decorations.

"Miss Constance's arrival from the future is far from the most abnormal thing this household has experienced."

A grunt sounded from the chef as he climbed the ladder. "Well, no, pretty sure Pluto takes the cake." Sebastian's eyebrow ticked at the mention of the demon dog, who was housed in it's specially built stable for the next two days until the Midfords returned to London. "But Miss Tabby rates a pretty close second."

If the cook found Constance's time travel the most supernatural occurrence, Sebastian considered where _he_ would rank on the human's scale.

"I mean, the young master doesn't really deal with supernatural stuff."

An eyebrow lifted on the demon's face, grabbing the second sprig of mistletoe as Bard moved to hang another.

"You shouldn't make such assumptions, Bardroy." The blond paused in his ministrations, taking a glance at the smirking man below him. "You would be surprised."

Then, Sebastian plucked the mistletoe right out of Bard's hands.

"Oi!" Glancing between Sebastian's gloved hands and the other door frames, he sputtered. "My mistletoe! Why did you take it down?!"

"I am not leaving something with gun powder residue to lie among the manor."


End file.
